


When There is Peace

by Cicerothewriter



Series: All the World is Blind [1]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-20
Updated: 2011-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicerothewriter/pseuds/Cicerothewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on holiday, Hastings meets his former batman, Jeeves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When There is Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: The idea for this story came from reading that Lord Wimsey's valet, Bunter, was also his batman turning the war. This led me to wonder who Hastings' batman had been. Jeeves immediately sprang to mind.
> 
> Note 2: The title comes from "When There is Peace" by Austin Dobson, a poem from [A Treasury of War Poetry](http://www.bartleby.com/266/59.html), 1917.
> 
> Note 3: A huge thank you to all on my f-list who read this and commented. Without your encouragement, it would not have been written.

“When there is Peace our land no more  
Will be the land we knew of yore.”  
Thus do our facile seers foretell  
The truth that none can buy or sell  
And e’en the wisest must ignore.

When we have bled at every pore,  
Shall we still strive for gear and store?  
Will it be Heaven? Will it be Hell,  
When there is Peace?

This let us pray for, this implore:  
That all base dreams thrust out at door,  
We may in loftier aims excel  
And, like men waking from a spell,  
Grow stronger, nobler, than before,  
When there is Peace.

Austin Dobson

 

It was a sunny day on the beach at Brighton when I happened to run into a familiar face. It all happened quite literally because I had been staring at one of the bathing beauties who had been pinning up her hair.

There was a soft 'oof', and I felt myself swivel a bit as I met with a more solid object than myself. I looked once, then again, and smiled because my day had suddenly become much better.

"Reginald! My dear fellow, how are you?" I said to the man from whose shoulder I had just removed my cheek. I had not seen my old batman since I was invalidated out of the army.

Jeeves' expression was full of shock for a moment before he pulled himself together. He gave me a small smile, and I felt a familiar although long forgotten flutter in my chest. "I am well, Captain Hastings. It is quite a pleasure to see you; I had hoped that your health improved upon your return to England."

"It has; I feel much better, Reginald." I paused for a moment, then said, "I suppose that I cannot call you 'Reginald' anymore, can I, old thing?"

Jeeves nodded at my words, and I imagined a sad shadow in his eyes. "The war is over, captain."

I like to think that at this moment we shared a commiserating glance, but as I could see very little emotion on his face, I could not tell. I looked him up and down, ostensibly to view his clothes.

"I say... you've become a valet? The job suits you I expect." I could not hide my fond look, and at this he rewarded me with a slightly wider smile than before.

"The occupation is eminently suitable, sir."

"I wish that I could have hired you myself, but I had dashed little to live on myself." I had enjoyed a few fantasies in which Jeeves did come to stay with me despite my trifling investments, but I never said anything. Even back then Jeeves was a serious fellow, and I felt silly speaking of such things before him. Before others I was not so silent.

Now that made me wince because I could remember numerous times when I said something foolish in front of Poirot.

Jeeves gave me a curious look, but said nothing about my wince. Instead he said, "I have heard that you assist Monsieur Poirot from time to time."

I was pleased that he had taken the trouble to learn my whereabouts. "I assist when I can, but Poirot hardly needs my assistance."

Jeeves looked at me momentarily, and I sensed that for a moment he was not seeing me but someone else. He mused, "Sometimes assistance is not that which is required. An attentive ear or sympathetic presence is more agreeable."

"How about idle chatter?" I said, smiling as I remembered how often I used to talk during our time together. It kept me from going mad when the war was too unbearable. Jeeves' answering smile told me that it had not been unwelcome to him.

"Are you staying in town?" I asked, feeling my face flush a bit at my boldness.

"I am, sir, but I have not yet hired a room."

"We could share," I said before I allowed myself a second thought. His facial expression did not change, and I wondered what he was thinking. Reginald had always been a quiet man, but he had never been so impenetrable to me. I wonder what changed him.

"I only mention this because valeting doesn't pay a princely fortune, and I'm always a bit short on money. Sharing a room would half our expenses."

"There would be other benefits," Jeeves said, and I was relieved to see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Well, yes, but I did not want to… to… well, if it were not welcome, and-"

Thankfully Jeeves interrupted my awkward response, and said, "I accept your gracious offer, sir. It is quite fortuitous that we happened by the beach at this very moment."

"I jolly well agree," I replied, unable to stop smiling.

After a brief discussion we removed ourselves to a restaurant for lunch as neither one of us had eaten yet. As we waited for our course, I said, "I am glad that you have fared well after… after our last meeting. Where are you working now?"

Jeeves replied, "I work for Mr. Bertram Wooster."

"And where does he live?"

"London, sir."

"London, eh? I am surprised. I live in London, and we've never met before now."

"I have not worked for Mr. Wooster long. My previous engagements were generally in the country. Mr. Wooster himself likes to travel, and so we are frequently away from the capital."

I nodded, relieved that Jeeves was not deliberately avoiding me or that my actions were keeping us parted. Jeeves often spoke about his desire to travel when we were stuck together in the trenches or when we were sharing a quiet coffee in our cabin. I took great joy from the fact that it was a shared pleasure, and we could comfort each other with images of Argentina or Florida, which were so far away from the stink of battle, the cold mud, and cramped conditions.

"I travel frequently as well," I said. I am not sure what I wished for at this moment, but ideas of us in Buenos Aires or Córdoba began to suggest themselves to me.

"South America?" he asked, rewarding my statement with a gentle curve of his lips.

"Of course you would remember," I said, more pleased than perhaps I should have been. "And you wished to go fishing in Florida and Cuba."

Jeeves laughed softly, and our eyes met and held. "Indeed, sir," he said softly.

"Have you been yet?" I asked.

He shook his head, looking down at the table. "I have attempted to convince Mr. Wooster to broaden his travel experiences, but Mr. Wooster does prefer France and New York."

"But at least you have been to New York. That is a fine start," I replied, trying to cheer up our conversation.

Jeeves nodded, and I could see that his mood had improved a bit. He seemed more apt to brood than when I knew him, but that is only to be expected. The war made many ponder their lives; I tended to live in the moment, even then, and surviving only made me more determined to do so.

We chatted back and forth about New York City. I had been there before the war when I worked for Lloyd's and then after when I needed to see a stable city as a reminder that not all in my life had changed.

"What of you, sir? Where do you reside when you are in London?" Jeeves asked after we had settled our bills at the restaurant. Now we were casually strolling through the town toward my hotel.

"Oh, I stay with Hercule Poirot. I've tried living on my own, but because of the amount of time I spend in Argentina and assisting Poirot with his cases, keeping an apartment was too dashed expensive."

I did not think it proper to mention that I wanted to spend as much time with Poirot as I could. It was a love I kept so secret that sometimes I forgot that I was in love. But then I would catch a glimpse of Poirot's dark eyes or his elegant hands, or he would say my name with such an affectionate tone that I would feel the aching love all over again.

Jeeves coughed softly, indicating that he was about to say something delicate and perhaps out of place. I remembered that cough from the war, and when I asked him how he learned it, he said that his uncle – a butler – taught him. "So you and Monsieur Poirot are not," he said very quietly, giving me a significant look.

I shook my head, feeling a touch insulted by the insinuation. "No, we aren't. I would not have asked you, well, if I were. That would not be right."

Jeeves gave me an apologetic look, and said, "Pardon me, sir, but I had to ask. Not all are as loyal as you."

I must admit that I suffered a pang of guilt as we walked to my hotel room. Poirot and I had nothing beyond a firm friendship, but I felt genuine love for him. Should I allow myself this time with Jeeves or contemplate traveling with him? Then again, who would my little fantasies hurt? Poirot neither knew of my feelings nor returned them himself, and he certainly did not wish to travel to Argentina, so I was not betraying him.

"Whoever the bounder was, he was no gentleman," I said sternly, and Jeeves gifted me with a little smile in answer.

"No, he was not, sir."

Luckily I had been given a double room because I had reserved a single and it had not been ready when I arrived. We had already retrieved Jeeves' luggage. There was nothing more we need do for the night.

I felt a nervous excitement as I looked to Jeeves and not an uncommon amount of shyness. Jeeves looked at me sympathetically, and came closer. He took my hat and stick, and put them safely away.

"Has it been so long, sir?" he asked after he closed the wardrobe.

"It has. I need… I need the emotion for it to be truly satisfying." I said it as if I were ashamed.

He nodded, and I felt in him a moment's hesitation. I felt sure that if I hesitated any longer, he would leave. I walked before him, rested my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him gently. The tension left his body, and his arms surrounded me. Our kiss deepened, and when we finally parted to breathe, our bodies were pressed against each other, limbs entwined.

"Reggie," I whispered.

I felt Jeeves shiver in my arms. "No one has referred to me as such for some time," he whispered in return.

"Then I shall have to remedy that error, old thing," I replied before kissing him again.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to kiss someone taller than me, and Jeeves was by a good three inches. He was also an expert kisser, as skilled at kissing as he was at cleaning a revolver or removing stains from a shirt.

Lovers on the battlefield are frequently unable to fully undress. The uncertainty of enemy movement, or worse, discovery by one's fellow soldiers left little chance for involved lovemaking. I had seen Jeeves in various states of undress, but never completely so.

Our situation in the hotel was relatively safer, and we used it to our advantage. It was an absolute treat to remove his clothing piece-by-piece, to kiss each area of bare skin, and then to feel him return the movements. My senses were filled with his clean scent, his smooth skin, the feel of his hot mouth on my neck, our soft moans, and the taste of his lips.

I bit his neck gently, and heard him gasp and whisper my name. "Arthur."

We lay back on the bed. Jeeves' kisses were more forceful and hungry, and I gladly accepted his body between my legs. We rocked against each other, his hot length pressed against mine. I could feel the pleasure increase within me, and I wanted him badly in any way I could have him.

"Reggie," I whispered. He moaned softly as he looked down to my eyes.

"Reggie," I said again, smiling at him. "I need you. I can hardly wait to feel you inside me again."

"Arthur," he whispered, lust bright in his eyes. He kissed me deeply, and his hand moved down to stroke us both. Jeeves was possessed of a fine pair of large, capable hands.

I cried out softly, trying not to be too loud. I whispered his name again, and he nodded, obviously overcome. I arched my back as pleasure surged through my body, my hands gripping tight his shoulders. He bit my shoulder as he peaked, which provided me with even more pleasure.

We panted softly against each other, and Jeeves remained on top of me, a comfortable weight. I was happy to remain as I was, covered by my lover, and I fell asleep though it was only late afternoon.

When I awoke, Jeeves had cleaned us both, and was currently snuggled against my side, his head on my shoulder. It was a curiously vulnerable position, and I cradled him close. He seemed startled from whatever his thoughts had been.

"Regrets?" I asked, worried about the broody look in his eyes.

"Not a one, Arthur," he said, and I was surprised into a laugh of pleasure by the use of my name.

"Shall we seek out some dinner, Reg?" I asked, famished.

Jeeves looked at me affectionately.

 

The evening found us lazy in bed. Jeeves was sitting against the headboard, smoking an idle cigarette, and I was lying on my stomach, arms folded under my head. I noticed once more the scar that adorned his hip, and pressed tentative fingers to it, wishing it away.

"Did you receive this scar after I left?" I asked, intently curious about the years we had been apart.

Jeeves looked down at my hand, and nodded, pressing his fingers gently against mine. "Fortunately it was a simple wound and did not force me from the front line."

"How long were you in battle?" I asked, wishing that I had been there by his side to protect him.

"Until the end," he said, putting out the cigarette in a precise manner before reclining next to me. "I was moved, however, to a position away from the battle line. My main duty was to decode enemy transmissions."

"Then they finally realized what a brain they had in you. Jolly good!"

Jeeves smiled, but it was not a happy smile. "I would have rather been with my comrades-in-arms."

I nodded my understanding. "It was not my choice to leave the army; the doctors made that for me. I have no love of war, but it seemed a less than honorable way out."

Jeeves gazed at me for a moment, and then whispered, "I was relieved when you departed. Your honor and bravery would have gotten you killed."

I shivered at his matter-of-fact tone. He leaned forward to kiss me, and it was a most forceful kiss. He rolled me back against the mattress, and I thought no more about bravery and honor.

 

The next day was spent in part on a local golf course. Jeeves was as keen a golfer as I and almost as good. He possessed a competitive streak that delighted me to no end. I was forced to conceal my laughter when Jeeves was stuck in the sand trap for five strokes, and the look Jeeves gave me revealed that I had not been as successful at concealing my amusement as I might have liked.

After lunch, we attended the cinema. Once the feature began, we held hands in a most daring fashion. It felt much like courting a young lady, except neither of us was the courtee, as it were.

We spent some time on the beach, watching the ships in the harbor. We were quiet as we watched the sunset, I with my ice cream and he with his lemon ice. In passing I wondered what Poirot would say if I were to ask him to come with me to Argentina.

"When will you return to Argentina?" Jeeves asked, his curious gaze turned upon me.

"You must be a mind-reader," I replied, startled.

His lips curved slightly. Jeeves looked marvelous in his grey suit, which I much preferred to the black valet's uniform.

"I haven't decided," I said, after a moment's consideration. "I intend to remain in England for several months, but I may have to return sooner if the news worsens."

Jeeves nodded. I was relieved that I would not be forced to recount why Argentina was so important to certain countries within Europe.

I looked down at my ice cream, pondering what I wished to say or if now were even the proper moment. "Of course... you are welcome to join me, if you wish."

Jeeves blinked at me, and I hurried on. "I am not even sure if you wish to visit South America, but the offer is always open."

Jeeves looked a bit unnerved, and I cursed myself for being too forward. I was about to apologize when Jeeves spoke softly, "I wish that I could, but I could not leave Mr. Wooster for so long a time."

Something in his voice concerned me; there was more to his reasoning than he wished to tell me at this moment.

"I wish," I said softly, gathering my thoughts. "I wish that my father had not lost the family fortune. If I could have, Reggie, I would have taken you on after the war."

Jeeves gave me an understanding nod. "We cannot change the past, Arthur."

I laughed, allowing myself to feel sharp bitterness. "I know," I said, drawing an abstract design on the sand with my walking stick. Reginald watched me as I did so.

"Shall we return to the hotel?" I asked.

 

Our mood during dinner was somber. I felt Jeeves' rejection keenly, but I was perversely relieved. How would I explain to Poirot or anyone else that I was leaving with my former batman to spend several months in South America? Everyone knew that I had no money for a flat, much less a valet. It would have looked strange, suspicious even, and I could not bear to lose Poirot's regard.

Jeeves sat next to me on the settee, and we curled close together. I rested my head on his broad shoulder, taking comfort in his familiar scent. His hand on my waist was firm, and I could feel myself relaxing into him. I vowed that I would not concern myself with the future and what I could not have. I should act as if this were the only time I would ever have with the man who held a special corner of my heart.

"Reggie," I said, placing my hand on his jaw.

"Yes, Arthur?" he asked, and I could feel his pulse beat faster beneath my fingers.

"Come to bed," I answered, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Last night Jeeves had taken command of our lovemaking, and his mouth had given such great pleasure. This night, however, I wanted more.

Our touches were gentle as we removed each other's clothes, and I consider it a triumph that Jeeves did not stop once to fold anything. I then knelt between his legs, and took his member into my mouth. He moaned softly, his head resting against the back of the settee. It had been some time since I had last given such pleasure, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed giving it.

I used every trick that I could remember on him, using my lips and tongue to best advantage, and I was pleased to know that I could still take him down my throat. He gasped loudly as I swallowed, and I pulled back to tease him with the tip of my tongue.

"Arthur," he said, panting softly. "If you wish for more from me than you are about to receive, then you should cease your actions."

I pretended to think about his words, pantomiming an expression of deep thought as I meditatively stroked his erection.

Jeeves laughed softly, and batted my hand away. "I never realized what a tease you are," he said, his hand holding the back of my head firmly as he leaned forward to kiss me. His kiss was forceful but calm, and I felt myself grow warm and pliant.

"Please, Reggie," I whispered against his lips, my body aching with need. He nodded in response, his lips rubbing against mine. He stood up from the settee, and then assisted me to rise.

Jeeves led me to bed, pulling the sheets down and safely out of the way. He retrieved the lotion from the bedside table. We had done this many times, but only once in a bed and never fully unclothed. In fact, the first time we came together in any way had been after an experience of heavy shelling and watching several of our fellow soldiers explode before our eyes. I had been relieved to be alive and to see that Jeeves was as well. We had barely entered my cabin when we came together in a mutual kiss. Our joining had been forceful, almost violent, but it proved that we were both alive. It also proved to me that I preferred the love of men, the way they felt and sounded, and how the lovemaking made me feel.

Perhaps Jeeves was remembering the same memories. We kept our kisses gentle and loving. I knew that I would want more force later, but for now we needed to erase our memories, or if not erase, then conceal them with new memories.

One of his slick fingers slowly pressed into my body, and I closed my eyes, forcing myself to relax.

"Am I hurting you?" Jeeves asked, concern clear in his voice.

I shook my head, opening my eyes so that he could see the absence of pain. "I want you," I murmured, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

"You will have me soon," he replied.

He began a series of light bites against my neck as his finger worked in and out of me. I moaned softly, my body moving with each stroke.

Soon he had two fingers, and when he found that spot within me, my fingers tightened on his biceps. "There!" I cried out before biting my lip. As my acquaintances are no doubt aware, I enjoy talking. That is nowhere more evident than the bedroom.

I could feel Jeeves' lips twitch upward against my skin, and the cheeky fellow began to aim for that same spot with his fingers. Over and over his fingers pressed, and I was nearly mad with lust by the time he had satisfied himself that I was prepared for him.

"Hurry," I whispered, panting harshly. He covered his erection with lotion, and adjusted my legs so that they were over his shoulders.

He began to press in slowly, his eyes intent upon my expression. I tried to grab his hips to hurry him, but he merely took my wrists and placed them on the bed.

"Gentle, Arthur," he admonished, and I nodded.

We both sighed when his hips met my bottom. This was what I had missed all these years – a lover with whom I could join completely.

Jeeves began to thrust slowly, and I reached up to caress his chest and neck. Jeeves shifted my legs and body so that he could kiss me whilst we made love. This changed the angle of his thrusts so that he was hitting that spot within me. Thankfully our kisses muffled my cries because I was fast losing control.

His thrusts grew more forceful and intense, and I knew that soon our lovemaking would be over. I had no need to stroke myself to orgasm because the pleasure was already too great, and I did not wish to peak without him.

We whispered each other's names in encouragement, and I shifted my hips so that I was meeting his thrusts. I could see that he restrained his own cries, and I wished that we were somewhere isolated and safe so that we could shout our heads off.

"Reggie," I warned, unable to hold back, and he murmured an encouraging sound.

I felt as though I were about to lapse into unconsciousness as pleasure peaked, and almost immediately I could feel warmth as Jeeves came to his own within me.

I was shaking with the force of my emotions, and I bit my lip again before I could blurt out something we both might regret. I was in love with Jeeves.

Jeeves collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his limbs quiver. My hands stroked his back as one might soothe a horse, and I whispered nonsense to him. I felt wetness where his face was pressed to my neck, and I tenderly stroked his thick hair back from his forehead, content to wait for him to either tell me what was bothering him or fall asleep.

When he fell asleep in my arms with no words said, I whispered, "I love you, Reggie," and let myself fall into a well-deserved sleep.

 

All was quiet outside when I awoke the next morning. My arm was stretched across Jeeves' chest, and my face was pressed against his neck. His arms were around me, loose and relaxed. I could tell that he was still asleep.

I shifted a bit so that I could look at his face. He looked calm and untroubled, and I marveled at how handsome he was. I traced the line of his brow with my fingertip, and he hummed softly in his sleep.

Feeling mischievous, I decided to wake him by applying kisses to his neck and shoulder. Jeeves moaned softly, and his arms tightened around me. I smiled, and continued to coax him awake.

"Arthur," he murmured, his eyes opening.

I smiled at him, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Good morning," I said, before continuing my path down his chest.

"Good morning," he replied, his hand stroking my hair.

I progressed very little before Jeeves pulled me up to face him. I lay on top of him while we traded lazy kisses, our hands stroking each other tenderly.

When I slid my body between his legs, he paused. "May I?" I whispered, brushing my fingers against his jaw.

Jeeves nodded. I sensed that he was nervous, and so I kept our kisses calm and my touch gentle. This morning was devoted to quiet but intense lovemaking as I spoke of my love for him with actions rather than words.

Jeeves' tension dissipated, and when I finally pressed myself into him, he was as limp and clinging as I had been the night previous. Time held little meaning for me as we loved each other, and I was almost surprised when I peaked within him. Jeeves let out a strangled cry, and arched against me.

I rested in his arms, savoring the events that had just passed and the camaraderie that lay between us.

Jeeves stretched, and said, "What plans have you for today, Arthur?"

I shrugged, and said, "None, save spending my time with you. I thought we might walk around and see what opportunity arises."

"Very good," he replied, obviously disapproving of my lack of plans.

I responded by biting his shoulder.

He responded by tickling my sides.

 

The rest of our holiday was spent as I have described above. We would leave our hotel room after making love, and see what the day brought. One day we drove my car to a more private view of the beach. Another day we played badminton with a pair of young ladies whom we met on the beach. We spent some time on the Pier and in the museums.

I was thoroughly enjoying our time together. It was pleasant to have someone to dote on and who doted upon me. I was able to do this to some extent with Poirot, but I was always fearful of being too obvious in my devotion. Poirot was often kind to me, and I eagerly received whatever affection he gave me, but it was difficult sometimes to want more and know I would never have it. Of course I did not blame Poirot; this affection of mine was not his fault.

During our meals and the time in between lovemaking, I relearned Jeeves' personality and character. While I felt that he had a need to control that might be too great, I could not fault him for this need. In fact, I could almost trace this need through what I knew of his childhood and what we experienced during the war. We would chat over meals about the time we had been out of touch, and frequently the central focus in my stories was Poirot. Jeeves did not seem jealous, which I found a relief. If we were to continue our friendship, as I hoped we would do, I did not wish for him to think that I would be unfaithful should the opportunity arise.

We decided that our last day together would be spent alone. We broke only for meals, and the evening meal we decided to eat in our rooms. The food was forgotten when we became hungry for each other. Even the bed was too far away when our passions flared.

I pressed my hands against the wall as Jeeves thrust hard into me, the force almost too much for me to bear. The sensation was so familiar that when I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find that the wall before me was not cold dirt but solid wood.

Our last night was lovemaking separated by brief naps. One of us would wake, rouse the other, and the pleasure would start anew. I realized that I would be exhausted in the morning, but I did not care. I could always stop and sleep in my car if I could no longer stay awake to drive.

 

I woke that final morning feeling sore but content. Jeeves was already awake, and I smiled at him. "Reggie," I whispered, snuggling against him.

He kissed my forehead, and whispered, "I am grateful for this week with you, Arthur."

"Me, too, old thing." I paused for a moment, and then said," Will you be staying on after I leave?"

Jeeves nodded and said, "For another week."

I thought for a moment, and Jeeves stroked a calm hand through my hair. I was nervous about what I wished to say. I took his other hand in mine, and twisted our fingers together. Whatever happened, I knew Jeeves would not regard me with contempt.

"I do not wish for us to lose contact again, Reg, now that we have resumed our friendship. When we both return to London, will you write to me? Perhaps we can meet..."

My voice drifted off as I waited for him to react. I could tell he was deep in thought.

"But if you do not wish to-" I began again. I reminded myself that Jeeves had chosen not to contact me after the war. Perhaps whatever reasons kept him from doing so then might keep him from me now.

"No," Jeeves said, and held me close. "I, too, do not wish to lose our friendship. However, it will be more difficult to pursue such a relationship in London."

"Of course. I do not wish for either of us to suffer. If we must wait to meet face-to-face until holidays, then I shall gladly do so, but I simply wish to hear from you when you are able to spare a moment."

Jeeves smiled tenderly at me, and replied, "I think that is an admirable idea, Arthur."

I was relieved, and we sealed our promise with a kiss.

 

We said our goodbyes in private. I felt sad to leave him but grateful for our meeting and for the promise of future correspondence. I drove off, eager to return to London. I missed Poirot desperately.


End file.
